Asylum
by edieslugbug
Summary: Jude's supposedly gone insane because Tommy left her. But is it all just a disguise so she won't break? Complete.
1. Better Days

So I've spent the last hour poking holes in my bedroom wall with scissors. I don't know why, so don't ask me. I just have. My mother wont be too pleased about it, and it was rather hard to do. I had to poke the sharp points into the wall, and then mercilessly dig. It was hard work, and I've covered about half of one wall with little dots, barely visible from a distance. A foot is an estimate of the measure between each of them.

This random, and somehow insane stuff has been going on for about a month now. You left about a month ago. My heart...well…you can pretty much guess when it shattered, right?

So now I sit in front of my white and completely blank wall (save for the holes, of course) doing nothing but staring. And I can tell without a mirror that my face is completely blank. How I can tell this is so, I don't know. But somehow I've let my mind flow, and it is incomprehensible where it will go. Now I'm rhyming. Purposely, though, not by accident.

Let's see if I can name some of the completely crazy things I've done in the past month. I distinctly remember being yelled at by my mother when I took all of my clothes I had worn since I had won my fabulous prize of fame, and dumped them out the window. I watched silently as most of them drifted into the pool, and some others landed just on the patio surrounding it.

About two weeks ago I took old Play-Doh from under the bed (it was kind of dried out, and the colors were mixed) and plastered it along my arm, then I waited until it dried so it was like a cast. I cut it off two days later. It's not violent things that I'm doing, just completely childish and strange. But, you left, and I believe that's the reason I'm doing it.

I get up from my position in front of the wall and look at the other one that I had been facing my back to. I climb up on my bed, which is pushed against it, and begin to rip my posters off of the wall. I fold them carefully and place them neatly in a drawer in my desk, which I then proceed to move across the room to the door. I pull it outside of the room and drag it into the guest bedroom that is reserved for family when they come to visit. I'm home alone for the time being, so there is no one there to take notice of my actions. I walk silently back to my room, and look at the dents that are temporarily stuck in the carpet where the desk's legs used to be. Leg's. That's a funny thing to call part of a desk.

My next task is harder than the last, and it requires some thought. I pull my comforter off of my bed, fold it up nicely, and open up my window. I do the same thing that I did to my clothes a while ago, and watch it open itself up and float clumsily to the pool, where it hovers on the water for a moment, and then sinks down. I flip the mattress off of the bed frame, and keep it sideways as I haul it through my door. I have no clue what I'm doing, but it just feels right at the moment, and what I do has always been spontaneous since you left.

When the mattress and frame of the bed is moved into the guest room, sidled up against a wall, because it wouldn't fit anywhere else, I crouch down and go through the drawer of my nightstand. It's one of the only things left in the room. I didn't have much in the bedroom, and I refused to go shopping after I got rid of my clothes. So I've just been using my mom's and Sadie's old ones. I dig through it for a moment, and find what I had been looking for. My notebook of songs. I pull it out, and set it down carefully on my carpet.

I'm about to close the drawer when I notice a folded piece of paper with your name on it. I recognize it as a note I must have forgotten to give you. I set it directly beside my notebook without reading it, and move my nightstand out of the room and across the hall.

I come back in my room, lay my guitar next to the other two items I have laying on the ground, and look around. I'm satisfied with my work. My room is now pretty much completely empty, and I have the only three things that are of importance to me lying in front of me. I sit down and cross my legs as I open the note. My handwriting is scrawled across it messily, I must have written it a while ago, when we were still together, probably, and hastily.

It reads simply:

"Tommy-

I would go insane without you.

-Jude"

In the distance I hear the front door open, and many footsteps walk in. I glance up when a man in a suit comes up to my room. "Jude Harrison, we're here to help you." He says to me. But I don't believe him.


	2. Fake Sound of Progress

My incredibly bleach blonde mother and a few other men appear behind him. I just shrug and continue with what I was doing.

I fold up the note, and place it neatly on the ground as I look around once again with satisfaction.

"What happened to your room, Jude?" My mother asks.

"I don't know." I reply with a smile. She doesn't return it.

"Jude. You need to come with us now. We're going to help you. It seems that you've been this way for a month or so now, and we don't want this kind of behavior continuing." The man says.

"Excuse me, but you're in my room right now. I didn't give you permission to come in, nor did I give you permission to tell me what to do. So, if you can just back up a couple of inches so that you're outside of my bedroom, I would be much happier." I tell him. He inches backward. My room isn't so satisfactory anymore. Now I want my stuff back. I get up from my position on the ground and squeeze my way through the few men and my mother.

"Jude, what are you doing now?" She asks me. I ignore her as I enter the guest bedroom and have second thoughts about what I'm doing with the furniture in here. I turn around.

"Victoria, I'd like my room to be this one from now on, not that one. I just don't like that one anymore." I tell her. I grab the nightstand that belongs to the room I'm swapping with, and proceed down the hall.

"Jude! Stop it." I'm rudely interrupted by my mother once again, and I stop in the middle of the hallway, nightstand in hand.

"What?" I bite sharply. I'm annoyed now. Don't they get the hint that I'm fine where I am?

"These nice men are going to take you somewhere. You'll feel better there, and Sadie and I will see you in a few months time. I think it's best that you go with them." She says calmly.

"Okay." I've felt too much pain to really be hurt by this. I think it comes as a shock to her that I am not fighting against her wishes, but I have no reason to stay here, and I quite honestly don't want to. I set the nightstand down and leave it in the middle of the hallway as I go downstairs and open the door to get into the black car waiting outside. Who do these men think they are, the FBI? Black cars, black suits. It reminds me of batman.

"Jude! Could you please move the stuff back!" My mother screams from inside. I pretend not to hear her and pick a small blade of grass from my lawn just as the men come outside.

"Bye, Jude. I really think this is best. It's been going on for too long." My mom says from the open doorway.

"Bye, Mom." I stick the blade of grass through a crack in the window, and watch anxiously as it falls down onto the drivers seat. When it falls I let out a sigh that it landed where I wanted it to, and get in front of the wheel.

"Ma'am, you need to go in the back of the car." One man says.

"Oh. Okay. No problem." I tell them, and move into the proper placement, not knowing that the next place I would be, I would spend over five years in, and I would become completely numb and even more abnormal while I stayed there.


	3. Hold Me Down

So I've been stuck in this white walled, completely boring place for two weeks now. I'm in a room that is completely empty, except for a bed. I don't do anything all day except go to see my psychiatrist and psychologist, and neurologist, and booblahbeehogist. I wait every day for a visit from family like they told me I would get, but none have come. I wonder why my parents don't even bother to see the place they sent me to.

Now I lay in my bed, counting (for the third time) the dots on the grey ceiling. I already know that there are 986,593 of them. But I'll count again. It's the only thing I can do.

My counting is interrupted at number 274 when my psychiatrist walks in. Knocking? Nope.

"Jude, it's time for our session." She says cheerfully as if it's something to be happy about.

I sigh and push myself out of my bed.

She leads me into the room labeled "Psychiatric Office", which is a lot more colorful than mine is. The walls are still white, but there are navy blue beanbags in one corner, and a comfortable looking light pink couch in another. I simply sit on the carpeted (what the hell? I don't get carpet.) floor, and cross my legs attentively.

"Jude, you can take a seat on the beanbags or the couch." She says. I don't reply and study the extremely vibrant painting on her wall. I can't tell what it is. It's more like just blobs and splatters of red, pink, orange, purple, blue, and green paint. I immediately think it's hideous.

"Why don't you want to sit on the couch or beanbag. You haven't sat in them since we started the sessions. What's wrong with them?" This is her opening topic. She has a new one each day. How do you feel about family matters? What's the thing that makes you feel the way you do? Do you have a favorite color?

I'm guessing she doesn't know about you. And how you're the reason I'm supposedly going insane. Nobody knows you're the reason, so she doesn't either. I'm the mystery in crazy-town.

"I don't like how you have colored stuff and I don't." I say to her. She looks confused.

"Why don't you like white?" She asks me, as if it's some shocking revelation that all patients would like a bit of color in their lives.

"It's extremely boring. I'm an artist, in case you didn't know that. I've been in the music industry for three years. Creative people, like myself, tend to not like white very much." I tell her.

She nods her head. So she knows I've been a famous musician for a while. I'm guessing I'm all over the tabloids right now about how I'm in a nuthouse.

"I'm sorry, Jude. But due to the regulations here, we can't change anything in your room. It needs to remain as it is until you show improvement, and you haven't shown any so far. If you would just tell me why you're so depressed and unhappy, maybe we could change the color in your room to blue." She says.

I don't reply. This bitch thinks she can dig into my personal life like an old friend. She isn't a friend.

"Would you like something blue in your room? How does blue make you feel?" She asks me. I'm getting annoyed now.

"Jude? Can you answer me? Why don't you like to talk a lot about what happened? We need to know why you're feeling the way you do in order to help you. Do you want to be helped?" God damn so many questions. Why can't she lay off for a minute?

"I really think you should share with me how you're feeling right now." She persists in her attempt to make me spill the truth.

"I feel like strangling you, you fucking whore." I say simply, looking her dead in the eye.

She looks surprised for a moment, but then shakes her head.

"What makes you feel that I'm a whore? Why are you so mad at me?" She asks me. I've had enough. Enough of these fucking questions, and enough of these people constantly trying to get into my brain.

I get up forcefully and she moves back in her seat a little bit. But I don't walk toward her, I walk toward the door. I fling open the door, and to my room, the only way I can go without security guards plummeting me.

"FUCK YOU!" I scream so loudly I'm sure China can hear me. I go into my room and scream it again. It's satisfying in a way.

"FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!" I yell it over and over again until my throat is hoarse and two men in suits come into my room.

"JUDE! CALM DOWN!" They have to yell over my screaming, trying to swallow out my sound with theirs. I flop down on my bed and do what they tell me to. I just lay there, tired from the screaming, but loving it all the same.

And now I realize why I've felt even more depressed here then I did when I was at home. Being in this room has given me nothing to do but think about why you left, and why you still haven't come home.


	4. All That We Needed

I wake up to the sound of the door opening and closing.

"What?" I snap loudly. Whoever the hell is in my room has just awoken me from a nice dream that involved crayons and that old lady who used to live down the street from me when I was six.

"Jude. It's time for some new medication. I have the prescription right here, and I'm going to describe to you what it does." I recognized the voice as Dr. Langdon's, my medicational doctor. He sat down at the foot of my bed, and I tipped slightly from the addition of weight.

"Get off of my bed." I groaned into the pillow. He obliged and kneeled beside me.

"I need you to look at me." He told me.

"No." I replied defiantly. I already had enough fucking pills being thrown down my throat at every waking hour, I didn't need any more.

"This medicine is to stop your outbursts that you've been having lately. You are very defiant of the rules, and we are trying to stop that." He said lamely.

"I had one fucking outburst and all the sudden I'm defiant!" I yelled at him, finally looking up. My face felt very hot from smothering it in the pillow, or it could have just been because I was angry.

"Things like that are what I'm talking about. You need to stop. Here, take this." He said, pulling a glass of water from the ground next to where he was kneeling. Where did that come from?

"No." I said simply.

"Yes."

I sighed animatedly, and took the glass of water from him.

"Okay." I said with as much depression as I could muster with what I was about to do in the back of my mind. I felt like bursting out laughing, but I kept a straight face so I could pull my prank off.

I held the glass of water firmly in my hand as I turned it completely upside-down over his head in one quick motion.

"I'm sorry, but we just need to do this to get you to stop ordering me to do things." I said with a smirk as I watched him splutter in the mess I had made on his head.

"Ring around the rosy,

Pocket full of posies,

Ashes, Ashes

We all fall down!" I sang as I walked into the discipline office. They had an office for everything here in CrazyTown.

"Did you know that that song was originally made as a morbid song during the plague in Europe? The ring around the rosy means the bruises they got from the disease, and they used to carry posies in their pockets to stop the smell of.."

"Jude. Sit down." I followed her instruction.

"You aren't succeeding like we hoped you would." Said the woman in a formal suit who had so rudely interrupted me.

I shrugged. "So?" I asked her. I obviously didn't care what they hoped. Because so far everything I had hoped for since I won that fucking contest hadn't "Succeeded as well" as I wanted it to.

"Well, we're thinking about giving you a reward every time you do something we ask you to." I just now noticed how everyone at CrazyTown said "We" as if that was a single person. It was like they were royalty or something.

"Like allowing a visitor to come in." She said. I perked up.

"Is that why I haven't been getting visits?" I asked her. I wanted to see my damn family. And I wanted to see you. I knew you wouldn't come, though.

"Yes, we don't allow them until a certain stage here." She continued with her story, but I paid no attention.

"I'll be good if you let me choose the person that I want to see. You can call them, and ask them to visit me." I apparently had interrupted her, because her mouth was open and she looked annoyed.

"That would be fine, Jude." She said with a fake smile.

"Can I call someone now?" I asked hopefully.

"No. You have to do something good first."

"Like what?" I asked her. It was my turn to ask the questions this time.

"Like, take your medicine, do your scheduled activities. We may even give you some coloring books or something to work in." She said as if it was a huge accomplishment. I wanted to say something rude and smart, but I didn't, because I wanted to see you so badly it hurt.


	5. Kissing the Lipless

A/N: I realized as I was writing this chapter that I've changed from Present Tense to Past Tense. It's too late to change it now, so I hope it doesn't bother you too much. Thanks for the reviews. They keep me going.

"Good job, Jude. We've seen major improvement here." Miss TooMuchBotox said.

All I did was open a door for a man in a suit. And I took those pills that make me feel like I'm being pricked by needles. If that's all I have to do, I'll be getting visits a lot more often.

"So…do you want us to make that call?" She asked me.

"578-9432." I told her immediately with a smile. I had it memorized by heart from the many times I'd called you so we could talk for hours about nonsense things like how our day was. None of that mattered, though, what really mattered was the conversations about how much we loved eachother.

The lady smiled. Actually, it was more like she deadpanned, since she couldn't smile because of the what must have been hundreds of shots in her face. That makes me think of the time I took to Sadie's face with super-glue. Ha. Haha.

"We'll call that number right now." She said, picking up the phone. I repeated the digits again and she dialed it into the receiver.

"Hi. You know Jude Harrison, am I right?" She said into the phone. I waited with anticipation, trying not to jump out of my seat and grab the phone from her. I wanted to hear your voice like a little kid wants a lollipop at the grocery store. And if all little kids are like I was when I was that age, they freak out pretty badly if they don't get one.

"Oh. Alright. I'm sorry. Bye." She hung up.

I looked at her curiously. What was with that? Wasn't she supposed to ask you to visit?

"I'm going to redial the number to make sure I have it right, he said he didn't know a Jude Harrison, but that his daughter listened to you all the time." She smiled as she dialed the number with more precision this time.

Once again I waited anxiously, about ready to jump out of my seat and scream.

"Hello. This is Toronto Medical and Psychiatric Ward. We'd like to know if you know Jude Harrison personally." She said politely into the bright yellow phone. I heard once that yellow makes people hungry. They don't serve very good food here, by the way. It's just like my old school's cafeteria stuff.

"Hello?" She spoke into the phone again, catching my attention.

"Sir? Are you okay? Would you like to talk to Miss. Harrison?" She asked.

"Jude. He'd like to talk to you." I nearly blasted out of my seat and yanked the phone away from her, hyperventilating into it.

"Hello? Tommy?" I asked, hoping to hear your voice talk to me.

"Jude." You said simply, and my knees buckled underneath me because it sounded so sweet after nearly a year of not hearing it.


	6. How to Save a Life

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys, they keep me going! It's kind of a short chapter, and I wrote it while singing to Alexz Johnson, so it might appear like I should be in an asylum. So tell me what you think. Thanks.

- Edie (It's pronounced E-dee)

"Why are you calling. I mean, why are you calling now?" Your voice came through the speaker. I nearly fainted right then and there, but realized if I did our conversation would be over.

I opened my mouth to speak, but for the first time in my life no words formed. That always happens in movies, but I never thought it could happen in real life. I literally lost my ability to speak for a short period of time because of you.

"Why are you in an asylum?" You asked me.

Apparently you hadn't been keeping up with the tabloids. They littered my life like garbage on the street. Hm…that's a good metaphor that I just made up. Wait…is that a metaphor or a simile? Whatever. Back to you.

I realized I was crying because of the sweet sound of your voice. I hadn't cried in a long time, but it felt good.

"Jude? Talk to me." You prodded the words out of me.

"I'm sorry." I said simply, and my voice broke.

I heard you sigh over the phone.

"You don't have to be sorry, Jude. You didn't do anything." You said. Once again I didn't reply.

"I need you." I was forming small sentences, but still, they meant the world.

There was a long silence.

"Jude, I can't handle this right now. I have to go. Bye." You said.

"Wait!" I yelled, but the click had already come, signaling the line had been cut off, and that you were sitting where ever you were, being afraid of what had just happened. I could read you like a book, still can.

I wiped the lost tears from my cheeks and smiled, trying to appear brave for the woman sitting at her desk in front of me. I got up from my position and walked over to her, handing her the phone. She smiled sadly.

"He's why, isn't he?" She asked, but I wasn't going to satisfy her with an answer, she didn't really care, she just wanted an answer out of me. I just turned around and left the room.


	7. The Colors of Us

I slammed the tan colored crayon down onto the wall and dragged it across, back and forth, for what must have been the millionth time. It wasn't easy to cover four walls completely with the tan color, but I had already covered one corner, and I was determined to finish it.

The door opened, but I didn't stop coloring ferociously as someone came in.

"Jude, you're going to get in trouble. They won't let you make phone calls anymore if they find you." I recognized the voice as Monique's. She had recently been moved in the room next door to me, and she had a severe case of bipolarness…bipolarism…however the hell you say that word. She had become my friend in the week that she had been here.

"He's not coming to see me anyway, so why should I care about phone calls?" I asked her. I had told her all about you and our situation.

"Well, you never know. Why tan? Isn't your favorite color red?" She asked me. I nodded in response and turned around to face her for the first time.

"Yeah…but his bedroom walls are an off-white/tannish color." I told her. I knew it was just making me seem even more insane, but hell, they still hadn't even diagnosed me, I figured I might as well get more crazy before they find out what it's called.

"You miss him a lot, don't you?" She asked me. For a bipolar person she was extremely nice. But then again, she was under heavy medication.

"You think?" I bit back sarcastically, concentrating again on covering the wall.

"You should just keep him off your mind. Find someone else. Harold is nice." She said.

Harold was the nineteen year old who lived upstairs. He had a variety of diseases. Schizophrenia, ADHD, and OCD. But he was nice.

"It's kind of hard to forget about the person you've been in love with for two years when he's not even talking to you." I told her. I was already getting sick of her being in here. She could at least have helped me color the wall.

I picked at the paper on the stubby excuse of a crayon and stripped it bare so I would be able to color faster.

"Just stop coloring, and go ask to call him again." She said.

I stood up, completely frustrated with the way she didn't understand. I knew it was a mistake to make her angry, because she would completely flip, but she was pulling on my nerves when they were already frayed.

"Just shut up! You don't understand! You haven't been in love, so don't even talk to me about it!" I yelled at her, completely raging.

I immediately recognized the fire in her eyes and attempted to apologize before she freaked out.

"I'm sorry, I really am, I'm stupid and shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Why? Because I'm bipolar? I hate you. I hate how people are always guessing that just because I'm bipolar I'm a fucking moron!" She screamed at me. She looked around for something to throw, but luckily there was nothing in the room but the bed and a box of crayons that I had kicked under it. She just turned around and left the room.

I kneeled down and went back to coloring my room to match the color of yours.


	8. Wish You Were Here

It was the two month anniversary of when I arrived in this Nuthouse when I first saw you walk up to the door. I jumped up from my position on my bed and I ran to the small window to peer out at you. I watched in awe as you hesitated at the door, and turned around, got back in your car, and drove away.

"What?" I screamed. You weren't supposed to do that, you were supposed to walk in and say, "Hi, Jude," to me.

Two weeks later the same thing happened, and I don't know why I just sat there watching as you came to the door and followed the same ritual, but I did. I didn't do anything to make you come in, when it was easy to just walk out and get in a visible area from the glass door.

My psychiatrist noticed my anticipation and my constant glances at her window.

"What's wrong, Jude? Are you waiting for someone?" She asked me.

I took another glance at the window and shook my head lightly.

"No." I said softly.

"Okay…so we can get on with our session?" She asked me, obviously annoyed by now. I nodded in response.

My room now had half of one wall colored in a very messy coat of tan. But it satisfied me, and made me feel at home. It made me feel like I was with you.

I had tried to mix the other colors to make up for my lack of tan, but crayons just don't mix well, and even if they did, they still didn't match the color of the wall.

That reminds me of this movie I watched a-gazillion times when I was back at home. "Pink Floyd The Wall" had so much symbolism in it, it drove me insane. Well, maybe that's why I'm here. I used to sit for hours trying to decipher every bit of the code that was locked in there by some of my favorite musicians, but I only could get down to what I liked to call the third layer. No matter how many times I watched it, I knew there was something I had missed.

I thought about how my life resembled that movie in a way. Well, okay, not very much at all, but if I twisted it. My wall was made up of three people: you, Sadie, and my mother. Those were the people I was worried about, or that I thought about. I never thought about Jamie anymore, since we had kind of drifted after we broke up, and Kat and I had long since ended our friendship that had been hanging by a thread. So the three bricks in my wall were still there…I think…or maybe they were gone since I hadn't seen the "bricks" for a long time? Okay, now I'm just confusing myself.

It went on like this for a while, you coming up to the door and hesitating, then eventually leaving. And even though I was screaming inside for you to just open the God damn door, I never actually worked up the courage to say it verbally.


	9. In Case You Break

Hey guys. Thanks for all the amazing reviews, they keep this fanfic going, and they keep me going! Lol. I'm really glad you guys don't think it's too insane, and I've been getting a lot of reviews about how I need longer chapters. Let me make this known: I have adhd, therefore a short attention span (along with incessant hyperness, lol.) So that's the reason for the short chapters, I just can't focus on one chapter for too long. Sorry, but they're not gonna get any longer. Except this chapter is kind of long. The song Jude is singing in this chapter is How To Save A Life by The Fray. They're a great band, and you should definitely check them out. I like this chapter, it's probably my favorite. It shows that Jude isn't emotionless anymore, and that she's not completely insane, she just chooses to be because it makes her feel more numb. I wanted to clear that up, Jude isn't really insane. She's still normal, just broken-hearted, and she likes to be seen as an insane person who must be talked to very sensitively so no one will say the wrong thing around her and see her layer of toughness fall. I hope that made sense. Anyway…enjoy.

-Edie (It sounds like Ee-dee. As in Edie Falco.)

"Ah fuck." I said to the nurse when she dropped my pills on the floor.

"I'll get them." She said, picking them up off of the floor and handing them to me.

"Damn right you will." I reply, taking the pills and plopping them under my tongue, pretending to swallow them. I flinched at the taste of the disintegrating pills and willed the nurse with my mind to leave so I could spit them out. Luckily, my brain powers worked and she turned around and shut the door, leaving me to spit the pills out in the toilet. I rinsed my mouth out with tap water and flushed the toilet.

I had been avoiding all of my pills for about two weeks now, and the doctors had all been mulling over their clipboards, looking for some explanation on paper as to why I was still looney.

"I haven't been taking my pills, dumbass. You can't find everything on those papers you know." I said to myself as I looked at the clock on the wall and hurried up to the window, realizing what time it was. I peered out of the rectangular slot and saw the Viper pull up and you get out of it. It was a Friday today, last week you had come on Monday, and the Saturday before that. Every day I checked around the same time, knowing that some days you would be there, and others you wouldn't. But you always left after hesitating at the door, and I just couldn't work up the nerve to stop you.

"Damn." I whispered as the Viper pulled out of the parking lot and you glanced back one more time before leaving with that oh-so adorable look on your face. It was your regretful look, and it was on your face every time you left here. I guess you really wanted to see me, but you just couldn't face the fact that I was insane.

"Step one you say we need to talk, he walsk you say sit down it's just a talk. He smiles politely back at you, you stare politely right on through." I sang under my breath as I walked into my psychiatrist's office for our daily meeting.

Mrs. Nancy, as she had asked me to call her, had gotten used to me singing a different song everyday as I walked into the room. She was the nicest doctor I had met so far, and I was extremely happy my old psychiatrist had left. Mrs. Nancy had even given me a notebook to write songs in. I smiled as I walked in to the room.

"What's the song called?" She asked me cheerfully, positioning herself behind her desk and pulling out her notebook.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to call it yet, but I have everything all written in my notebook, do you want to see it later?" I asked her, taking a seat on the couch that I always took a seat on. I had never sat on the beanbag or the chair, just the multi-colored couch.

"Sing it to me." She requested. I smiled softly. No one had asked me to sing for months, and I hadn't sung in front of anyone since you had left. I had been dying to get back in front of the people, back to my job and the world tours, and the screaming fans. Too bad it would take me five years to get out of this hell-hole where music didn't exist.

"I haven't sung in a while." I said sheepishly.

"That's alright, you still know how. You're a world famous singer Jude, I'm sure you can sing for one person." She told me supportively. I nodded and cleared my throat nervously.

Mrs. Nancy's opinion was the one that I looked up to most now that I was stuck here.

"Step one you say we need to talk  
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk  
He smiles politely back at you   
You stare politely right on through  
Some sort of window to your right  
As he goes left and you stay right  
Between the lines of fear and blame  
And you begin to wonder why you came," I finished the first verse and looked expectantly up at her. She was grinning and looking at me admiringly.

"Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend   
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life," I sang passionately, letting out all of the wound up performing urges that I hadn't obeyed in months to the woman who was probably my favorite person in the world at the time.

"Let him know that you know best  
Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defense  
Without granting innocence  
Lay down a list of what is wrong  
The things you've told him all along  
And pray to God he hears you   
And pray to God he hears you

"Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend   
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life

"As he begins to raise his voice  
You lower yours and grant him one last choice  
Drive until you lose the road   
Or break with the ones you've followed  
He will do one of two things  
He will admit to everything  
Or he'll say he's just not the same  
And you'll begin to wonder why you came

"Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend   
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life." I finished softly and looked at Mrs. Nancy as she applauded. The sound was a lot less than the applause that I was used to, and it made me ache for performing again. I wanted to rip out of this building right now and just go back to my normal life. The life before you had left.

"That was amazing. But if we don't start this session my boss will kill me. So let's start, shall we?" She asked, gesturing for me to sit down on the couch.

I sat down and faced her with a small smile on my face.

"What are you feeling today?" She asked, starting off the conversation. Mrs. Nancy was the one person I could open up to, the one person who I felt comfortable talking to and telling about my feelings.

"Right now I feel like I miss everything I had before I came here. If I could do it all over again I would have gone out of my room and went back to the studio after Tommy left." I said to her, then clamped my hand over my mouth, realizing I had said your name to the people who worked here, like I had promised not to so many times. Now they would pry into me like a hard-to-open jar of pickles.

Mrs. Nancy was scribbling in her notebook. I didn't like her so much now.

"Tommy is his name huh?" She asked me, happy I had let something go for once besides the small problems covering up the huge one.

"No…I meant…Alfred." I said, quickly choosing a male name. I sighed in frustration realizing Alfred sounded nothing like the name Tommy, I should have picked Timmy or something.

"Okay…so this Alfred…when did he leave?" She asked me. I knew she hadn't bought the whole name thing, but she was just going along with it to make me spill my guts to her.

"No." I said to her firmly.

"No what?" She looked confused.

"I'm not going to sit here and tell you all the details of my past, all the details that are just going to make me more insane than I already am, and let you give me more medication for being a broken-hearted, lovesick fool who just couldn't handle the one man she was in love with leaving her. So I'm done with our session today, Mrs. Nancy. Thankyou." I told her as calmly as I could, but tears were already about to spill down my face because I had been reminded of you, something I tried not to do too often. I got up from the couch and grabbed the handle on the door, twisting it roughly. I was defeated when it didn't open. I turned back to Mrs. Nancy, who was still sitting there calmly, with a sad look on her face.

"Jude, I'm here to help you. How about I make you a deal? Everything we say in this room today won't go on paper, if you just tell me everything that happened between you and Tommy." She said. I turned back to the couch and sat down.

"You promise?" She wasn't going to let me out of here unless I told her everything.

"I promise." She said solemnly, and threw the notebook aside.

And with those two, sincere words, I began telling her our long and emotional story, not even trying to hold tears back as I shook in her arms.


	10. Screaming Infidelities

"Tommy was my producer when I first came into the business. I thought it was moronic to place me with an ex-boybander, and he thought I was so rebellious little girl who would give him a world of trouble. But we became friends, and we always had this tension between us. I knew he felt more than he should for me, and vise versa. But we didn't say anything. We couldn't, because I was only sixteen, and it would have destroyed his job. So we went on like that, and finally, when I was seventeen, we got together. He asked me out on a date, and it went so smoothly, ending in me going into my house with the sweetest goodnight kiss I had ever had." I smiled softly at Ms. Nancy, and she nodded, prodding me to go on.

"I loved him so much it hurt. I wanted to spend every moment I had with him, in his arms. So I did. We were together in the studio, and after the studio, and pretty much every night I stayed at his house. Then the night after my eighteenth birthday, he just left. I didn't know where he was going, but he didn't even explain. He just went away."

"I haven't seen him since. And everyday I just want him to come back. And he does come back sometimes, he walks up to the door of this place, but he walks away after standing there for a couple minutes, as if he isn't sure if he wants to see me or not." I choked on my words and literally felt my heart breaking all over again with the memories of you.

Ms. Nancy soothed me, and I sat there, shaking in her arms.

The next day I got up and looked at the window, I had a feeling you were coming early that day, a premonition, if you will. I was right. The mind stuff was kind of getting weird. I shrugged it off and watched in silence as you got out of your car. It pained me to watch you as you came up to the door and stood there.

I furiously ripped my bedroom door open and ran down the hall, pushing through the guards on my way. They groped after me, trying to stop me, but Ms. Nancy came out and stopped them. She must have known what I was doing.

The heavy door seemed even heavier as I pushed it back and ran outside as you got into the car.

"Tommy!" I screamed at the top of my lungs as tears escaped my eyes and you turned to look at me in stunned silence.

"Don't! Don't get in the car." I said to you, surprised that I could even form words.

You didn't speak, just stood there watching as I cried and looked back at you.

"Hi." You croaked. I hadn't talked to you in over a month, and Jesus, did it feel good to hear your voice, no matter how hoarse it was.

And then you did what I had least expected you to do. I had expected you to say it was too much and just drive away, but instead you closed the car door, stalked up to me, and enveloped me in your arms.

I shuddered like I always had at your touch, and you nuzzled your face into my hair as my arms slowly wrapped around your neck.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, and, another surprise here, it was enough to make me forgive you.


	11. Over My Head

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, you guys! They mean the most to me, and they really put a smile on my face when I read them. I know where I want to go with the story, I'm just trying to figure out how to get there right now, but I'm pretty sure I'm working it out. So here's the next chapter, and I hope you get the little metaphor (similie? Idk.) at the very end. I thought of Jude's heart when I wrote the last sentence, and you'll see what I mean by it, hopefully. Enjoy!

-Edie

"I'm stupid, Jude. I don't know how many times I can stress that. I'm stupid, and a coward." You said to me as I sat in the visiting room with you. They had given me as much time as I wanted, which I knew would end up as a lot.

"Yeah, you are. Tommy, I'm insane because of you. Because of what you did to me, I'm in an asylum, and my parents have completely abandoned me, along with Sadie." I said to you. A wave of guilt passed over your face and you looked truly sad. The saddest I had ever seen you in the years that I knew you.

"I'm back now. And I'll do whatever I can to help you get back on your feet again." You were depressed, I could tell. Later you would tell me that I was a different person than all the other days you had known me.

"I've changed my lifestyle completely, Tommy. I'm not singing as much, and they don't even know what my disorder is yet." I said to you.

"That's okay, we'll work together to fix it, okay?" You said, kissing me on the forehead.

You promised you would visit tomorrow, and I nodded as I put a smile on and waved goodbye to you. But I didn't feel any better than I had the day before, or even the day you left. I still felt completely disastrous, and just knowing that it was the same feeling as the day you left made the emotion even stronger.

That night I found a pen that a nurse must have dropped, and I sat down, remembering the night three months ago in my bedroom when I had been picked up and taken here. I dug the black pen into the wall and popped it out. It left a small hole and I aimed the pen just above it, smiling softly as I indented again into the wall. And again, and again. Until the scribbled, tan wall was covered in holes that had taken hours to weld, and that would never mend.


	12. Several Ways To Die Trying

A/N: Ahh! Reviews are amazing, as always. I have the story planned out now, so I might be updating more often, or I might just stay at a normal pace and figure out how to write what I want to write. In the beginning of the story, it was written in present tense, just pretend that it's always been past-tense, otherwise the whole thing will be screwed. Now, this is the part in the story when Jude actually becomes insane, not just a ruse to hide her emotions. This is not the last chapter, but it is the end of part of the story. You'll understand next chapter. It's kind of short, but I hope the writing makes up for it. I loved writing it, now I hope you like reading it. Enjoy.

-Edie

You said you couldn't come that day, but that you would come on the next visiting day. So when you didn't come, I was bored, lying in my bed, and waiting for the four days till the next visiting time to pass by quickly. I stared up at the ceiling, since that's all you can really do here once the crayons are worn out, and thought about you. And everything else that I had been keeping inside of me for so long.

When you start thinking about things like that, and how the world really is getting pretty horrid, it catches up to you if you usually aren't paying attention to that stuff. I think that's what happened to me. I was laying in my bed, and I started thinking of how many arguments are happening in different countries at the moment. How politically we were pretty much crashing. And how people can be so horrible to actually murder people. It was all catching up to me that my life isn't good, that it's pretty bad. I didn't see my parents anymore, they had abandoned me when they found out I was insane, and I didn't see Sades anymore either, she had gone off to college and never came to visit her ruthless family. I was in an asylum, laying on a stiff bed that springs poked out of, and I still hadn't been diagnosed as to how I was crazy.

Yep, things weren't exactly going uphill for me. So I cried.

Well, I didn't really cry. It was more like sobbing. I heaved and heaved over the edge of my bed. And I didn't have any idea why at the time, but later that night I would discover it was because I had never paid any attention to all of the emotions that were wound up inside of me, and now that I was, they wanted to let loose. And so I let them. Doctors tried to stop my crying, but I persisted and told them it would be good for me. It couldn't have been that easy for them to understand what I was saying because my voice was so broken up, but they left anyway.

And this, is the point that I've been leading up to the entire time I've been writing this. The point where I broke. This is the point where I realized that I actually did belong in an asylum, and that the doctor's diagnosed me with abnormal depression and emotional ignorance, or something like that. This was the point in my life when everything turned from a cover-up, to real. This was the part where I can honestly say I was scared shitless.


	13. Look At Us Now

A/N: This is where the story all comes together. I still have a long way to go before it ends, but this is the marking point of the middle. Hope you like it. It's set five years before Jude started writing all this stuff. (This is why I need you to pretend it was in past-tense the entire time.) Please tell me if this makes sense of if it confuses you, I'll try to make it clear. This one is very short, but I'm going to post the next chapter very soon after it, probably tomorrow. This is supposed to be short, because it's basically just explaining some things.

P.S. Shout out to Adam. Thanks for reading. Love you.

-Edie

Five Years Earlier

"Jude, the treatment has worked wonders on you, and as a final project before you go home, I'd like you to write about your experience in this journal, alright? From your point of view, everything you thought, and everything you did. You don't need to show it to anyone." Ms. Nancy said, handing Jude a notebook with her name on it. She turned to face Tommy.

"And I'd like you to write down about your experience from the date that you left Jude, and then let her read it. It should help a lot." She handed Tommy his own journal and smiled at the couple.

"That's all. Congratulations, Jude. You're officially released from this hell-hole." She said and Jude grinned happily as Tommy led her out the door.


	14. Set Phasers to Stun

A/N: Once again…this is short. Longer post later, I promise.

I don't know why I left you. It was probably the biggest mistake of my life, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I definitely owe you an explanation.

I was scared. I'm a coward. I was freaked out because of my feelings for you. Ever since I had started dating you it had become a more intense feeling that I felt, and that scared the shit out of me. I had never felt it for anyone else before. So it was new, and most of my relationships had only lasted a couple of months. You were different though, I wanted our relationship to last forever. I wanted to get married to you. So I don't know why I ran if I wanted you so badly.

I was so scared of how much I cared about you. I repeat myself when I'm trying to make a point, so I'm sorry if I've said that millions of times already.

When I left I went up to my parents house. They passed away in a car crash a while back, you know that, so the house was empty. I met this girl named Jennifer, and I thought that she would be able to just get me back on my feet and make me remember why I needed to stay with you. But she didn't. So instead, every night we would just hang out at a bar and get drunk off our asses, then go home and have sex. I'm ashamed now to say that, but it needs to be said.

So, I guess I should elaborate more, eh? Jesus, where do I start? At the beginning, I'm guessing.

This is my story, I hope it doesn't hurt you too much.


	15. Who I Am Hates Who I've Been

A/N: This is in Tommy's POV in case you didn't know that yet. The reference to uppers, in case you don't know what that means, is another word for drugs. There are uppers, which get you happy and high, and bummers (or downers, whatever you call them), which get you kind of bummed out and high. I have no idea where all of this chapter came from, it just basically wrote itself, so I hope it's not too out of the blue and like "wtf?" lol.

-Edie

When I first left you I went to my parents' house in New York. I stayed there, just shopping around and getting drunk, then passing out on my couch. I was depressed that I wasn't with you, but I was too damn confused to even think of going back to you. It wasn't long before I met Jennifer at a bar, and we went back to my place, where we slept together. I thought she would be just a one-night stand, but she thought differently. She didn't want a relationship, but she did want a "Fuck-Buddy" as she would call it.

I started hanging out with her, thinking it would just be better to forget about you completely. You were too overwhelming for me, and Jennifer was simple. I didn't have any unusual feelings for her, or any urges to kiss her or marry her or anything like that. I just saw her as a friend who helped me have a good time and who made me forget about you.

But I really didn't forget about you, you have to understand that. I promise you that somewhere in the back of my mind, I had your memory tugging there and still existing. Even something as simple as an apple, because it was the same color as your hair, would remind me of you.

I got a job in the bar that I went to pretty often, which led to free drinks. I kept the job for about two weeks, and while I was there I snuck Jen free drinks as well as other friends I had met. My boss found out and fired me, which led me to trying to find a new job. I didn't, and Jen had to move in to help support me. I had no money, I was literally broke. I lived off of the bread that we had sitting on the coffee table. I hadn't been in a worse situation than the one I was in.

I got hooked on drugs, too, to make matter worse. Jen eventually gave up on me, because I didn't give her a good screwing anymore, or something, and she left, leaving me broke and not able to pay rent. But I still had my car, don't ask me how I had managed to keep that thing. I still have it now, I couldn't bare to part with it for the huge amount of money that it would bring. I lived in it, eating with the spare change I could get off of people by singing and doing old BoyzAttack routines. Not a lot of people recognized me because I looked so shabby.

The drugs made me happy most of the time. If I was missing you, or thinking about how, exactly, I had made my way into this hell hole, I would just get high. My senses boosted, and the seats of my car felt softer than they ever had before. I could hear people sneezing from down the street, and the radio of my car seemed like it was blasting loud enough to have the sound force of a rocket taking off.

Not that I haven't done drugs before. I did when I was in BoyzAttack, but never like I did when I was gone. I got high at least twice a day, if not more, and I knew my life had turned to shit. And all of this happened within the first three weeks of me being in New York

I knew I could go back to you and clean myself up, I could be good again. But I didn't want you to see me in the state that I was in: living in a car and smoking uppers all day. You deserved better than what I had become.


	16. Fill Me Up With Broken Promises

A/N: You'll notice that Jude is actually telling all of the dialogue that she experienced, in a lot of detail, whereas Tommy is basically just telling a story with not a lot of detail. This isn't because I changed the writing style or anything, I did this on purpose. Due to Jude's "craziness", she writes differently from Tommy, and decides to explain the entire thing and tell exactly what happened. Tommy just gives an overview, because he's not crazy, and he doesn't want to tell Jude all of the exact details because it will hurt her too much. Just wanted to clear that up. If you haven't been reading the authors notes, I highly suggest you do. They have a lot of information in them that's really important for the story.

-Edie.

Go read the author's note. Thanks. Okay now the chapter will start.

Jesus, Jude. I was absolutely horrified at what I looked like when I looked in a mirror in the men's stall of a café. I definitely needed to shave, and I needed to wash my hair and scrub all the oil out. So I went to the YMCA, where they gave me a shower and a razor and some new clothes, and hot meals. It was a good place, and they helped me out for about two weeks.

After two weeks of being with them I met Katy, but I was hesitant to hang out with her. I kind of figured she would just make things worse.

But this is the part of the God-awful story that I start to get kind of better. I got your call while I was sitting on Katy's couch eating pizza with her. I started freaking out after I hung up the phone, and she really calmed me down and helped. But not with sex this time. This time it was just sincere friendship.

I was still freaked out when I went to sleep that night. I kept worrying about you, and about what you had said on the phone. And why were you in an asylum?

What had I done? And how much pain had I really put you through by leaving?

When I was little I promised myself that as an adult I would never cry. Because it wasn't manly, it was childish and girlie. So I swore to myself that I wouldn't ever let a tear slip from my eye, even if my parents died.

That night I broke my promise.


	17. Hate Me

A/N: Just to clear this up with people who are wondering and DON'T read the authors notes, you've already read Jude's journal. It was the entire first part of the story. Please please please read the authors notes. And I guess if you don't read them, you really won't be reading me begging you to read them right now, but oh well, I'll take a shot. They're so important for you to read, and they really will help you understand the story better. I'm not the worlds greatest writer, but I'm working on it, and I'm working on how to just be able to explain everything in the story without being like "Oh yeah, so this is Jude Harrison (my) journal in case you didn't know." Which actually the one you're reading right now is Tommy's, not Jude's.

That's my goal in case you didn't know, to be able to explain everything in the story. I'm really working on it, and I'll start it next time I start a new fanfic. But for now, enough of my rambling, onto the story, which will be finished in a little while just so you know. I give you the next chapter:

With Katy by my side, I was definitely going to try and shape up. I was staying at her place now, and she was purely amazing. She was quite possibly one of the best friends I had ever had, and we're still friends today. I'm glad I met her, because otherwise I would have never worked up the nerve to take a shower, shave, and drive to where you were.

The drive over there, I was glancing at myself in the rear-view mirror, telling myself how strong I was for coming to see you. And I was so, so proud of myself. And then the nerve all went away when I actually got to the place.

It's quite intimidating there, let me tell you. I can understand why you hated it so much.

The grey concrete walls and guards standing by the door weren't exactly a welcoming site, but still, I got out of the car. And I took some steps to the door, where a huge man the size of my Great Aunt Gertrude was standing. (Okay, so my great aunts name is Becky, but that doesn't sound as good.)

I raised my hand to knock, and received a flutter in my stomach, so I lowered my hand and patted my abdomen, as if that would help. It was only awarded by a questioning glance from the guard.

I placed my hand on the door, and then turned away. I turned back, and then away again. Then I walked up to my car, got in, and drove back to where I had come from. Which I don't even remember where it was, or what the address is, because I was most likely drunk when I moved in and Katy told me the address and whatnot.

I did that a couple of times a week, and every time I chickened out. You have no idea how badly I wanted you to just come bursting through the door, yelling for me to come inside and visit you. If you had pushed me to that limit, I wouldn't have been afraid anymore. But you didn't come out, I didn't even know what direction you would be coming from if you had, because I didn't know where your room was. So I just stood there once or twice a week, with my hand raised, getting suspicious glances from the guard. The guard must have recognized me after the second or third time I came, because he just rolled his eyes when he saw me.

I wanted to come in so badly. I wanted to see you, and explain to you why I left, why I was scared of the feelings I felt for you. But I was afraid of your response. I was afraid you would be disappointed in me.

But most of all, I was afraid you wouldn't accept me anymore.


	18. When All Is Said And Done

A/N: LAST CHAPTER! It makes me sad to see it go, but I'm excited to get to work on a new fanfic, and concentrate more on A Certain Slant of Light. Thankyou for the reviews, I can honestly say this has been my favorite fanfic to work with, and that you guys were brilliant. Add me to your author alerts so you can see when I post my next fanfic! It's going to be an Instant Star one, so hopefully you'll all like it. It's not ready yet, still in the prepping process, but I hope it'll be good. Anyway, thanks a million, and I hope you enjoyed Asylum.

And then, what I had been waiting for happened.

You came out. You actually came to me. And I was stunned.

I didn't know what to say, because you looked so much like yourself. And you were acting out of your heart, just like yourself. Yet I knew that you weren't yourself anymore, somehow.

And there was truly beauty in that. Don't ask me how. I wasn't high, I know that. I had been clean for about a month now. But it was just this amazing feeling.

It had to have been the strongest emotion I've ever felt in my entire life. It was indescribable, so I won't even try to describe it to you.

I walked inside with you, and we talked. Which was good. I had needed to talk to you, and it came kind of easier than I thought it would. I thought I would have stuttered a lot and stumbled over my words, but something about you made the truth just spill out.

Then after we talked, they let you into the recreation room with me, which you had never been in. We both looked around and you said this was the best thing that had happened to you for the entire time you'd been here.

I smiled at that. There was a piano in the corner, and you sat down at it, smiling brilliantly like you used to whenever music was with you.

It must have been the first time in over a year that you had sat down and played some instrument, because I had never seen you so happy.

Your fingers delicately touched the keys, and it made me kind of sad that you weren't yourself anymore, not really. You were still the same old Jude, but you were changed. You were bound now under all the stuff they had told you. You weren't spontaneous and wild and carefree like you used to be. Now you were watching every move you made and making sure it was okay.

The first note you played on that piano was middle C, which you had told me years ago was your favorite because it was right in the middle.

And even though you had changed, that one note made me happier than I had ever imagined, because I could swear I saw a glimmer of the old Jude in your eyes as the sound of the music rebounded in the room.


End file.
